


I don't pretend to know the challenges you're facing

by cakesnake



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander needs to think before he acts, Eliza cries alot, Everything from Eliza's perspective, F/M, poor baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5801569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakesnake/pseuds/cakesnake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was so like Alexander to bring their lives crashing down around them again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I don't pretend to know the challenges you're facing

_I saved every letter you wrote me, from the moment I read them, I knew you were mine, you said you were mine, I thought you were mine..._

Her husband cheated on her. Vowed to have no woman but her, told her father that he would stay true, and he turned around the first chance he got and took the first girl with a sob story to bed. Into their bed. Their marriage bed. The bed where their children were conceived and where their children sought refuge when they were scared and where they slept. Where she had slept alongside him for years, not knowing he had betrayed her.

_You published the letters she wrote to you, you told the whole world how you brought this girl into our bed..._

She couldn't feel anything but anger. Anger that he would do this to their children, to her, to their friends and to Maria Reynolds, the married woman he had taken to bed. And anger that she couldn't stop loving him despite the fact he had disregarded her feelings and their marriage so blatantly. Anger that she couldn't find it in her to hate him.

_I'm burning the memories, burning the letters that might have redeemed you..._

She burnt his letters to her, the pamphlet, her feelings, the memories of him holding her tenderly and telling her he loved her, telling her he would never make her feel so helpless as he did when his mother died, because she couldn't find it in herself to hate him and keep the things that would remind her that he could be redeemed. Because it hurt too much. It hurt that such a good man might do this to her.

* * *

 

_We played piano, you would put your hands on mine,You changed the melody every time, I would always change the line..._

And her baby went limp in her arms. Her firstborn died in front of her. It was a travesty for a child to die before their parents, and she had never agreed more with that statement than now when she slid to her knees and begged the doctor, Alexander, God, anyone to bring him back, to take her instead, but to leave her baby there, to leave Philip be.

_Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre, Cinq, Six, Sept, Huit, Neuf..._

Alexander cried, wailed, screamed, but he had been the one who had encouraged their son in this endeavour, the one who hadn't told him to back down and had encouraged him to not defend himself. The one who had killed their child when it came down to it. She could still love him when it was her he had betrayed, but their son was dead and it was his fault and for that, she hated him.

* * *

 

_There are moments when you're in so deep, it feels easier to just swim down..._

They moved away from the house in which Philip had lived. Angelica cried and forgot and it was a trauma for the whole family when she would play pretend that Philip was still there. She found herself removing herself from her family, it was too painful seeing her Philip's eyes in little William, and his smart mouth in Alexander Jr, and seeing the twinkle of pain and regret in her husbands eyes, her husband who was still sleeping in his office, her husband who was still paying for killing their son.

_You hold your child as tight as you can, and try to push away the unimaginable..._

Her children recovered more quickly than her. The older boys went back to school, and once she was well again Angie went back to her studies. Alexander took charge of the younger children. But she stayed in bed for days on end, and didn't brush her hair and she cried until her head hurt and tears wouldn't come anymore. She would throw up, and get dizzy and she felt like she was pregnant again, but she was sure that such a thing couldn't have happened, it was January now, but she was still mourning the death of her first child, she could not bring another into the world happily. But the doctors confirmed it. Due sometime in June, they said. All she could do was cry some more.

_Eliza do you like it uptown? It's quiet uptown..._

Her husband tried, and tried hard to get back into her good graces upon learning that they had another child on the way. She supposed he wanted to make up for what he had lost with Philip. He took her for walks in their new neighbourhood, got her more involved with the children, got her out of bed more often than not, and told her time and time again that he loved her and that he was sorry. So sorry. And so was she. She was so sorry and she didn't know what for. But there came the day he took her out into the garden, just to walk to look around, and she couldn't bare being away from him any longer. She had come to the realisation a long time ago that her husbands ill informed advice may have aided in their sons demise, but he himself had nothing to do with it, and was just as much in mourning as she was. She took his hand.

_There are moments where the words don't reach, there's a grace too powerful to name... Forgiveness... Can you imagine?_

He looks at her confused, almost scared. He is wondering how she could forgive him for what he had done to them. But she can't stop loving him despite all he had done. How could she? She may have burned them, but she had read those letters enough to remember his words, and despite her efforts she remembered all his promises and how sincere he was when he made them. And she hoped she could simply remember that and just get on with loving and being loved, rather than remembering all the bad, the tears, the blood, the pain the betrayal. There was good, and she had to remember that.

* * *

 

_Best of Wives and Best of Women..._

He had kissed her when he left that morning. He had gone around and kissed each of their children, held little Philip, the child they named after the one they lost. She had told her good bye, with a bitter sweet quality to his voice and she had wondered why. And now she knew as her husband, he bleeding husband was hustled inside and to their bed, he sister was behind her as she rushed upstairs.

_You have no control, who lives, who dies, who tells your story..._

How could she have trusted him to not bring their lives down around them again? First destroying their reputation, then killing their son, and now he was dying himself, and she was not going to let him die alone. He was so pale and his blood so red, and the doctor told her that there was nothing to be done, that he was dying, and that there was no way to save him. She could do nothing but cry and beg him to live, for their children, for her, for spite, for anything, just live. But he never did take orders well. He faded away without saying goodbye to their children. With only a squeeze of her hand, feeble but still there. And he was gone.

_Oh, I can't wait to see you again, it's only a matter of time..._

 


End file.
